In the kitchen, Lin Fan fished out the steamed crabs one by one from the pot.
Below him, kneeling, Zhang Caini tightly grasped his stiffness, relentlessly using her mouth to stimulate him.
A pair of supernaturally hot, snow-white breasts hung over her apron, while her other hand slipped into her skirt, raised to her waist, playing with herself by her own crystal spring source.
It wasn't until the platter was full that Lin Fan helped Zhang Caini up and let her sit on the kitchen counter. Her secret garden, between her legs, had long been drenched. Lin Fan unceremoniously drove his train into that moist tunnel.
